


My L'Manberg (Oneshot)

by sootforbrains



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Sleepy Bois Inc
Genre: l'manberg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:13:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26667256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sootforbrains/pseuds/sootforbrains
Summary: And when the hero loses sight of why he's made himself the hero....what then?
Comments: 5
Kudos: 153





	My L'Manberg (Oneshot)

_I heard there was a special place..._

Wilbur's heart was aflame, pounding heavily as he lowered himself onto the ground beside Tommy. His eyes fell on Manberg, the office building that had been erected where the van had once been. It made his blood boil, to see within those windows these citizens happily going about, doing Schlatt's bidding without hardly a second thought. 

How it angered him, to see the marks in the grass where the walls had once stood, the piles of rubble that hadn't been cleared away, still littered about like puddles of poison. 

"This is it, big man," Tommy whispered, gazing at Wilbur with wide, icy eyes. His bow was slung across his back, his hands trembling as they gripped the grass. On his other side lay Techno, whose slitted eyes were trained forward, watching.

They were hidden by the knoll that lowered itself into the wilderness beyond, teetering on the edge of Schlatt's property.

_Wilbur's property._

"Schlatt should be coming out any second now," Tommy continued, voice low, nodding toward the office building. "Tubbo's in position."

"Good." Wilbur fingered the sword in his hilt; it had been a gift from Techno, an offering of peace during those grueling beginnings of Pogtopia. All those days of building, training. Dreaming.

How Wilbur itched to draw his sword upon those who had stripped him of his pride. 

Exile had been cruel to him, had been cruel to them all. The caves had paled them, deprived them of the sun, and the wilderness was unkind, the mobs more vicious without the flickering of torches. 

But exile had not weakened them.

It hadn't weakened Wilbur.

_....where man could go to emancipate...._

"Wil."

Tommy's voice broke, low and shaky. Wilbur turned and glanced at his vice president, the younger boy he'd so graciously taken in as his political partner. Tommy's eyes were wide with fear, an uncommon occurrence for a boy so brave. The duel against Dream for L'Manberg's independence hadn't pulled this much terror out of him. 

"What is it?" Wilbur felt an unfair prick of annoyance in his chest. Now was not the time to be afraid. Now was the time to act.

"Are we sure that this is going to work? I mean..." Tommy glanced back toward the office building. "Schlatt's far more powerful than Dream ever was. I....I don't know if I can...." He trailed off, closing his eyes, shaking his head. "I'm being stupid. I'm..."

_You're being a child._

But sympathy, seductive in its own right, clasped Wilbur's heart in a death grip, and he reached over and placed a hand atop Tommy's back. "It's okay to be afraid," he said, and offered forth his best smile. "We're in this together. We're brothers; and we're going to take back our land."

Tommy smiled gratefully, then nodded once, firmly, reinstating his courage. He reached down to brush the sword that hung at his own hip, the sword Dream had gifted him from the shadows. It seemed to comfort him. 

Suddenly, Techno jerked, grabbing Wilbur's attention. "There," he said, voice hushed, and gestured a paw toward the office building. "There, is that our signal?"

Wilbur's head snapped over to where Techno was pointing; Schlatt was exiting his building with that infuriating swagger, head held high, horns polished and gleaming in the fading daylight. Beside him--clad in that horrid suit--was Tubbo, tense and stumbling. And there was a moment where Tubbo's eyes flashed, and he glanced quickly toward the knoll that they were hidden behind.

But only for a moment, and then his eyes were back on Schlatt, wide and eager to please.

Wilbur had to hand it to the kid, he was a good actor.

_...the tyranny and brutality of our rulers._

"Charge," Wilbur whispered, and fire flooded his veins, the adrenaline which drives and pulls and tugs. He clambered to his feet, and unsheathed his sword. "Charge," he said again, more urgently, then, "Fucking _charge!_ "

And they did. With Wilbur in the lead, the trio ran toward Manberg, the office building, Schlatt--who's back was currently to them.

But as they neared, Schlatt whirled around and aimed his own crossbow directly at Wilbur's chest. 

"Don't think you can pull a fast one on me, Mr. Soot." Schlatt's sneer was biting, utterly poisonous. Wilbur could sense movement from the shadows around them, hidden warriors coming to their president's defense. _Fuck._

But as Schlatt pulled back the trigger on the crossbow, Tubbo raised his own bow and aimed it at the back of Schlatt's head. "Don't even think about it," he said, voice tremory but firm.

Wilbur felt a surge of defiance. _Way to go, Tubbo._

On Wilbur's right, Tommy raced toward the office building with a torch high over his head. When he reached the stone of the structure, he set the torch to the grass and lit the greenery ablaze. 

Techno let out a yell, and Wilbur saw from the side of his eye that he had been targeted by one of Schlatt's hidden warriors--Punz, maybe, from the looks of it. 

Wilbur skidded slowly to a halt a few feet away from the standoff between Schlatt and Tubbo--Schlatt's bow still aimed squarely at Wilbur's chest, Tubbo's arrow mere inches from the back of Schlatt's head. It truly was a trap.

Wilbur lifted his own torch high above his head, and tossed Schlatt an easy grin. "Your presidency was futile, my friend."

And he let go, the torch falling and landing at his feet, setting the grass alight with the flickering of fire. 

Schlatt's eyes burned in the light of it, and he lowered his bow. "You won't win," he said, before turning and knocking Tubbo's bow cleanly out of his grip. 

"Tubbo!" The cry came from Tommy, who quickly turned from his own arson and desperately attempted to run to his friend's aid. But from the shadows came a painfully familiar figure.

Fundy's sword clashed easily against Tommy's leg, and the boy went down onto the grass with a strangled cry. 

Wilbur turned; everywhere there was fire. 

_Well, this place is real, you needn't fret..._

"Wilbur." 

Niki's voice seemingly came from nowhere, but Wilbur suddenly felt a hand grasp his shoulder. He turned, throwing a glance behind him. Niki and Eret were standing off to the side, carefully avoiding the fire, weapons dangling by their sides. Eret's crown hung at an unnatural angle, and he was staring at the fight before him with wide eyes. Niki's own gaze was trained solely on Wilbur. "We have to retreat," she said, and Eret nodded his agreement quickly.

"We've got an advantage," said Wilbur, frustration flaring within him. They couldn't back down, not when they were this close. 

"Schlatt's got more of them," Eret said, gesturing toward where Fundy and Tommy were dueling near the entrance to the office building--Schlatt had disappeared, Tubbo was nowhere to be found; Techno was grappling with two of these hidden warriors, holding his ground only temporarily. "He's got a whole army hidden around here. Someone knew you were coming."

"We can't back down." Wilbur's tone was firm. His anger was burning, encouraged by the fire that was quickly spreading around his feet. "We're so close."

"I know," said Niki, and she stepped forward, offering forth her hand. "But there's no way you can win this, Wil. Please, trust me."

"Just retreat," added Eret, his face a mask of concern. He glanced woefully toward where Techno was frantically swinging his sword. "You're outnumbered."

Wilbur's grip tightened on the hilt of his sword. He felt his features contort, and he turned a fiery glare onto Eret. "You don't know what we're capable of, traitor."

Eret threw up his hands. "I'm trying to help you, I'm on your side--"

But Wilbur wasn't listening. He charged forward, through the fire, toward the office building where Schlatt had been. He felt his heart cease to exist inside of his chest; all that mattered was finding that bastard ram and bringing him to his knees. 

"Wilbur, stop!" Niki's tone was full of pleading. 

But he was no longer listening.

_....with Wilbur, Tommy, Tubbo, fuck Eret,  
a very big and not-blown-up L'Manberg._

He tossed a disdainful glance at where Fundy was attempting to thwart Tommy, each sword a symphony as it clashed with the other. It was pitiful that he'd once cared for that fox, pitiful that he'd taken him in, pitiful that he'd considered him family. 

Out of the shadows around the edges of the fire came one of the warriors Niki had warned him about, face hidden by a mask. Wilbur met the sword with brute force, pushing him back with his sword, sending him stumbling into the fire. 

He kept walking.

He had to find Schlatt.

" _Wilbur!_ " Techno's baritone was hard to distinguish over the sounds of fighting, the roaring of the fire. "Wilbur, stop! We've got to retreat, there's more of them than we thought!!"

Wilbur didn't respond. He kept walking, around the office building--it was currently going up in flames, something wood within the stone catching fire and bringing the whole place to its burning demise.

_My L'Manberg...._

This was _his_ nation. He had founded it, and he was going to pry it back tonight. 

No matter what it took.

_"Wilbur!!"_

_"Wilbur, please!!!"_

"Wilbur."

He froze; the voice like ice injected straight into his veins.

He whirled around, sword clenched in both hands. Schlatt was leaning against his burning office building, hands shoved deep into his pockets. His bow was nowhere to be found. 

"You." Wilbur's voice trembled with fury. He advanced slowly toward his former friend (oh, how they'd been best friends!), eyes narrowed. His throat was beginning to clog with the smoke, the fire around him blurring his vision orange. It gave Schlatt's horns a satanic halo; and it gave Wilbur's skin a satanic glow.

"You care about this nation." Schlatt's tone was infuriatingly calm. So cocky, so ignorant. "You care about this land more than anything."

"It was _my_ land," Wilbur growled, coming closer.

"I know. And I'm sorry, but I simply had to take it." Schlatt shifted, eyes fixated on Wilbur's blade. Around them, the fire roared.

"You're not sorry." Wilbur's lip curled. He had reached Schlatt, the blade of his sword pressed daintily against the skin of his throat. "None of you are sorry for what you've done to me. My dignity."

"You want it back?" Schlatt's lips split into an uncanny smiled, and he gestured widely with his arms. "Then take it back! It's all yours!" 

Wilbur's brow furrowed. 

"Wilbur...." 

From the corner of his eye, he saw Tommy's thin figure emerge from the blistering smoke, limping, wincing with his pain. His clothes were in more tatters than usual; when he saw Schlatt, he stopped cold. 

"Take it back, Wilbur." Schlatt clamped a hand around the blade of Wilbur's sword, his smile fading into a resigned grin. "You can. But at what cost?"

_My L'Manberg...._

"Wil, we have to go. Techno's hurt bad, and I'm....." Tommy trailed off, his tone cracked, scratched with defeat. His eyes were wide, no longer childlike.

He was gazing with a horrible terror at Wilbur. 

They were so close.

Wilbur looked back to Schlatt, who seemed far too comfortable on the wrong side of a sword. "On your knees," he said, and took a step backward. Schlatt obeyed, moving with the measured slowness of a convict. He raised his hands toward the sky, and gazed steadily at Wilbur. 

"Say we've won." Wilbur's tone was low, menacing. He was determined, his resolve strong as steel. He wouldn't let up until he'd gotten what he so desperately needed. His dignitiy depended on it; all of it would have been for nought if he didn't get his sacred nation back. He would make it a utopia, better than it was before. He could improve upon his former presidency, set up defenses, be kinder to his people. 

But he needed to win. "Say it, Schlatt."

"We used to be friends, Wil." Schlatt smiled sadly. 

"Don't pull that shit on me. You took what was _mine._ " Wilbur touched the tip of his blade to Schlatt's throat again. "So say I've won. Say I've earned back what's mine."

"Yours?" Tommy's voice was raspy with a cough; his brow furrowed as he leaned against the office building. "Wasn't it ours?"

Wilbur ignored him. "Say I've won!" he screamed, his chest bursting with the smoke and the rage and the utter realization that he was _so fucking close._

Suddenly, Tommy let out a series of wretched coughs, doubling over, clutching desperately at his chest. Wilbur didn't look at him. He was focused on Schlatt, who was remaining frustratingly silent. 

"Wilbur, we've got to go," rasped Tommy. "Please. Please come with me. We can regroup, we can--"

" _No._ " And finally, Wilbur turned on his vice president, anger bubbling over onto his lips, eyes wide with it. "You can leave, fucking give up, I don't care. But this is _my_ nation, and I'm not leaving it again."

Tommy's mouth clamped itself shut; there was a strange emotion lodged in his eyes, something that made him seem more childlike than ever. 

_We're brothers, aren't we?_

Around them, the fire continued to roar. From the flames behind Tommy came Niki, Tubbo on her heels. Upon seeing Wilbur--the look in his eye, the blade against Schlatt's neck--her eyes widened not with fear, but with a wretched sort of sadness. 

_My L'Manberg...._

"Oh, God. Wilbur." Her tone was soft, depleted of anything bright. 

Wilbur wrenched his gaze back to Schlatt. Her words meant nothing to him; Tommy's pain meant nothing to him; _not when he was this close._

And Schlatt, hands palmed toward the sky, looked at him with an amused sort of look. "You've won," he said. "But at what cost?"

"Shit--Tommy!!" 

Wilbur's gaze snapped over to where Tommy had suddenly collapsed, eyes lolling; Tubbo had rushed to catch him, and was beginning to drag him out of the ring of fire, toward safety, where there wasn't smoke to clog his lungs. 

And Wilbur felt nothing. 

As Tubbo dragged Tommy away--as the two boys who he'd once loved so dearly disappeared into the smoke and flame--he was left with the iron and flowers gaze of Niki. Her despair was etched into every line of her expression as she gazed at him. 

"Fundy was right about you," she said, almost incredulously. "War's turned you into somebody I don't know anymore."

And with that, she turned and ran back into the smoke after Tubbo. 

And Wilbur was left alone with Schlatt, watching her fade. His head reeled with the smoke and the faintest feeling that he was never going to see her again; at least, not in the same way. 

"How does it feel," said the ram, who was still on his knees, still staring up at Wilbur with that horrible amusement, "to be on top, my friend?"

And Wilbur didn't know why there were tears streaking his cheeks as he stared into the smoke. He'd won, hadn't he?

_My L'Manberg._


End file.
